


This Journey We're On

by imyourplusone



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, post 4.9, the missing thank you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9249161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyourplusone/pseuds/imyourplusone
Summary: "This Journey we're on isn't over just yet. You may have given up on us, but I haven't."I looked around and found Lizzy's missing thank you following the pardon and return of her badge.





	

He's restless this evening. He's restless most nights but this one especially. The mansion being too small to contain his nervous energy, he finally gives up and makes his way to the terrace with a glass and the bottle. It won't be empty by the morning but the convenience factor being what it is he brings it along.

These are the times he finds difficult. The moment beyond the sweet thrill of victory when all the chess pieces have moved in perfect alignment securing him the win. When his mind lets go of the moves and countermoves to the silence that waits.

This was one of the longer games. Stretching out months and months from the moment Elizabeth pulled the trigger and entered his world. Almost as soon as Connolly's lifeless body hit the ground, the never-ending strategizing began culminating in a dance lesson earlier in the afternoon. The calling in of a chit and a winner was declared.

_There are no winners and losers...only Agent Keen's life._

Yes, perhaps winning is not the appropriate term but rather a restoration of something lost. A chance to move forward from whatever state they currently inhabit.

He would have liked to have seen her reaction to the news but one can't have everything. There are times to retreat after a successful campaign and so she learned of it from another source.

He looks up, automatically searching the night sky, but it is overcast tonight. No stars are visible to point the way, however, the wind will do for now. Blowing in from the east, it hits him in an icy wave. Strangely he doesn't feel all that cold, just a little numb and too tired to sleep.

Lifting the glass to his lips he hears her from over his shoulder. Never sensed her approach and his usual warning signals must be dampened by fatigue, he supposes. Who else could sneak up on him but her. It is what she does best.

Catches him unaware just as she always has.

"I've heard when someone does something nice for you, you're supposed to say thank you."

* * *

"Lizzy, this is a surprise. I suppose Dembe is to thank for this unexpected pleasure by letting you know where we've been hunkered down."

Where he summons the bravado is a mystery. Perhaps it is so ingrained in him, it simply turns on like an automatic reflex.

He finally sees her as she takes a seat on the opposite side of the patio table. The lights from the house spill out onto the terrace illuminating her profile as she stares out at the night. He watches her close her eyes to the wind and wonders what she is thinking right then. Is it the badge he is certain she has tucked in the jacket pocket near her heart? The stain that has been removed from her record and more importantly her name? Or perhaps what waits for her at home?

And as if reading his mind, she answers the unspoken question.

"Do you know what I'm thinking of? That day when Berlin escaped and I told you to go."

That horrible day after Meera and Cooper and…..other memories she hasn't wanted to face that have been making their way into her thoughts with increasing regularity. Thoughts that drove her from the safehouse to make this journey tonight.

"What on earth made you think of that?" is his surprised reaction.

"I wondered if you might be planning to leave now that you secured my pardon."

"Lizzy, I'm not sure what you think I've done-"

For the first time she turns to look at him stopping his words. Stopping the deflection that also comes much too easily, especially with her. Why is everything between them so damn difficult? The way they push and pull in this constant tug-of-war. The heightened state of awareness that keeps them circling one another because to stop might force them to face the truth of what lies beneath that awareness.

"Along with saying _thank_ _you_ there is also the receiving aspect. We may need to work on both of these."

"Yes."

His small smile meets hers as she reaches across the table for his glass to take a sip of the scotch. It burns like fire but instantly warms her against the cold. Her hands have the slightest tremble to them and he has no idea if it is the temperature or the same nervous energy that brought them together once again.

Circling as they do, sometimes they meet in perfect sync as it seems to have happened tonight.

Sliding the glass back across the table she says, "Sorry, but I didn't bring my own and I needed that."

Refilling the glass he returns it to the center of the table and she smiles again at his intent to share.

Even in the dim light he can tell she is searching his features, gauging his reaction.

"Lets try this again. Raymond, I came to say thank you. I know it was you, there is no need to deny it, but I wanted you to know what it means to me."

She is waiting for a response but the words won't come. Only one other time has she used his given name and he rarely visits the memory of that day or the ones that followed. But this is a good day and after the hard ones that came before, his name on her lips is like music to him.

"It's your turn now," she says, lightly teasing him. Only a little though as she perceives the emotion in his features and it touches a place deep inside her.

"You're welcome, Elizabeth. You deserve this second chance."

His words wash over her and she wasn't even aware of the broken places they find to fill. Wasn't entirely conscious of the weight of guilt that lessens just a bit. Not all the way knowing it never really will or should, but enough to allow her a deep breath. She draws the crisp night air into her lungs and nothing has ever felt better.

"I'm not sure of that but I am grateful nonetheless."

They say no more and simply sit, enjoying the winter's night. They won't be able to remain out in the cold much longer but neither are willing to move. The glass is silently passed back and forth once or twice and when it is empty he does not refill it. It will not do as she is driving back home.

The empty glass signals it is time to leave the frigid night and they rise almost in unison to make their way indoors.

As he walks her through the great room to the marbled hall beyond she feels his hand at her elbow as was once his habit. The touch is familiar, even comforting after all this time, and surely the tingle in her arm where his hand is resting is from the cold.

She is reaching to open the front door when he says softly behind her, "I'm not leaving."

Turning back he notes her questioning look and continues, "You said you thought perhaps I was planning to leave. I'm not going anywhere."

It wasn't curiosity but rather worry that he would go now that this obstacle in her life has been removed. As her body relaxes and the concern leaves her features it is evident she came to intercede. As she did the day Berlin escaped.

Here they are, full circle once again.

Perhaps now the tug-of-war will cease. Stranger things have happened and knowing she made a step toward him tonight by coming here he decides to do the same.

"Lizzy, I've discovered the most wonderful new bakery not far from here. They do a lemon scone with just the hint of nutmeg that is out of this world. Shall I pick up a baker's dozen on the way to the Post Office tomorrow morning?"

She is smiling broadly now at the thought of Raymond Reddington bringing pastries to the FBI. It's for her though and a way for him to be there when she returns to the office to begin her first day of work as an agent again.

"I would like that very much."

"Thank you," he replies and she doesn't miss the sincerity mixed in with the mischief.

"You're welcome. See, we're getting there."

"Indeed we are, Lizzy, indeed we are."

She has walked a few steps out the door when she stops and turns back toward him. Before he can ask if anything is wrong she closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around him. Taking a step back to regain his balance he circles his arms around her and holds her close.

There is nothing tentative in the embrace. Not like the night he came to the safehouse after Kirk finally left. Another night she hugged him but there were still miles of pain and regret between them. Tonight, however, a barrier has been crossed and although they may not be able to talk about that just yet, they both feel the impact.

There is something very close to desperation that makes them hold on tighter. That makes her bury her face in his coat that smells like the winter wind and makes him softly brush her temple with his lips.

She pulls back and he does not miss the tears she tries to blink away before saying, "Sorry but I needed that too."

Not waiting for a reply, she is gone. He watches the taillights of her car disappear from sight and whispers to her, "I needed it as well."

And walking inside, he closes and bolts the door in the house that no longer feels as suffocating. The nervous energy is gone and he makes his way upstairs to sleep knowing the line forms early at the bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to TravelingSong for the title and everything else.


End file.
